


Birth

by eastern_wind



Series: The Darkest Hour [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, The Voice, Trevelyan family - Freeform, the darkest hour prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-05 22:06:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14627981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eastern_wind/pseuds/eastern_wind
Summary: Most would say the Voice is a curse. But for Sybill it's a blessing.





	Birth

Sybill Amanda Trevelyan is no coward.

She’s never been afraid of what she is. The dull mumbling of the Voice is always there in the corner of her mind, haunting her since the very first memory she has of her childhood. It is simply a part of her, vibrant at times and always unyielding, persistent like golden speckles in her yellow eyes.

Sometimes, it makes her do stupid, reckless things like jumping in front of her nine year old sister Lydia that is about to be taken away to the Circle by the templars or falling for the sailor that leaves her for the sea less than a month after they marry. Sometimes it protects her family, taking over her body when mercenary’s blade draws blood from her aunt’s throat and guiding her own sword to finish the attacker in one blow. 

Once, it saves her from greatest loss. Stefan is born prematurely, barely making it to eight months mark and clerics say the boy won’t survive, no magic or alchemy strong enough to keep him in this world. He is so small, weak and still covered in blood when they give him to her, she can’t believe it’s her son, real, her flesh and bone. The life is leaving him already, they say, three women standing demurely around her bed and Sybill refuses to give up.

She reaches deep inside in that little corner of her mind where Voice is murmuring something in hushed whispers. She barely catches what it says, but doesn’t care at all.

“He is my heir,” she demands, “yours too. Save him.”

The room is brightly lit with dawning sun, but suddenly the fires rise in the fireplace, roaring wildly. Everybody is blinded for a moment but when her vision clears, there’s a thin line of a healed scar on the child’s chest just above his heart. Then he starts crying.

Sybill smiles when he opens his eyes for the first time. They are golden.


End file.
